PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The rust-red foliage of the Autumn

splashed with hues of crimson, scarlet,

stains the forest with its shower

interspersed with shades of yellow

clinging to the weaving branches.

Here the song bird chirped its chorus

from its nest of straw and feathers,

lined with moss that spins a carpet

on the mud floor of the forest,

under which the feral rabbit

bred its young amonst the twigs there,

shielded from the shots of hunters

and the poison-baited death traps

lurking in the golden wheat fields.

The whining wind that creaks the branches

twirls the orange from its moorings,

whirls the leaves of mellow Autumn

to the damp floor of the forest

where the vines of tangled bramble

clutch them to their thorny bosom,

decorate their wizened runners

with the flags that decked the treetops.

Till the flame that lit the forest

all has dropped its fiery sparks there

to the undergrowth and tree roots,

dowsed in dew drops, pearls of morning,

charred to brown and ashy mouldings

on the dank floor of the forest.



Then the landlord of the bush realm

redecorates his Winter mansion....

Paints the naked boughs with silver,

spreads the trees with snow-white crystal,

clothes them with the frozen snow flakes,

sparkling like a million diamonds,

glittering in the frosty moonlight,

tints with blue the icy forest

to the hues of frigid winter.